


Justice and Duty

by KaenOkami



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Gang Violence, Gen, Harm to Children, Murder, Organized Crime, Possessive Behavior, Tattoos, Violence, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28417083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaenOkami/pseuds/KaenOkami
Summary: Udai Tenma was the legendary heir to a yakuza clan: cold-blooded, terrifying, and everything that new recruit Hinata Shouyou wanted to be.Now, Tenma is going straight, abandoning home and family, and destroying any chance his juniors have of being acknowledged by their hero.Shouyou is having none of it.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Justice and Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Black and Blue HQ zine.

People didn’t like to look Hinata Shouyou in the eyes. 

They noticed him, of course, despite how small and slight he was next to his much bigger brothers, but then they very quickly wished that they hadn’t. They tried to pretend that they hadn’t, but they still couldn’t get him out of their heads. 

There was an energy around him, a danger, like a live wire. Getting near him felt like creeping towards some wild thing on a frayed tether: those who hadn’t seen him in action felt their skin tingle and their guts start to swim without knowing exactly why. Those who _had_ seen what happened when the tether snapped never forgot it.

Only the truly strong or the truly stupid had no fear of being caught in his line of sight, more terrifying than staring down the barrel of a gun. While once they had been a light, possibly even warm and friendly brown, now the light caught them and turned them amber. They were bright, too bright, always a bit too wide, and his perpetual smiles never quite reached them. Nobody could ever recall seeing him blink.

Likewise, nobody would peg Shouyou as being used for protecting people instead of destroying them. Which was exactly why the head of the Udai family was sending him to Tokyo to do just that.

~0~

Shouyou had met Udai Tenma fist-first. 

It was his own damn fault; he’d been a pretty dumb thirteen-year-old. He’d known since he was little that there was something shady going on in that little electronics store; there had to be a reason his mother would always cross the street to avoid it, after all. It was a too-ordinary place on a too-ordinary road, whose interior was blocked by the assortment of TVs in the front window, all playing different sports, where plenty of men went in and out but never seemed to buy anything. 

He’d been curious. He’d wanted in. And so he’d been skulking around the back, looking for a vent, a basement window, a glimpse of something that had not been his to see yet. Tenma moved on cat’s feet, but it was still amazing that Shouyou hadn’t realized he was there until he was being yanked bodily around by his unbuttoned uniform shirt and punched square in the jaw.

The blow rattled his skull and knocked him off his feet, straight into the trash cans against the back wall. Dazed, he’d looked up expecting to see a hulking beast of a gangster. Instead, he’d seen an older boy who looked a lot like him: only a couple inches taller, hair short and spiky over his round face. He certainly hadn’t been smiling, though.

“Who are you? What do you want with my father’s business?”

Tenma’s dark eyes had burned, and the growl of his voice had sent shivers down Shouyou’s spine. It had brought a grin to his face, despite the blood gushing from his smashed nose.

“To help out with it, actually.”

~0~

Shouyou wasn’t sure yet whether or not he liked Tokyo. 

It could just be the weather. Winters in the city were decidedly unpleasant, cold and full of freezing rain. But he knew he was kidding himself if he thought it was _really_ something that minor. 

Being cut off from his brothers and boss was bad, no two ways about it. Nobody here knew who he was, though their eyes still flicked away if they chance to meet his own: they knew they didn’t want to look any deeper or see any more of him. He would take his scraps of pride where he could get them, he supposed. And then there was the near-complete lack of things to do...

No. No, not quite. He had a _job_ to do, like it or not.

Tenma was the worst part of Tokyo. 

He followed in the footsteps of his favorite brother, just like always. But Tenma would never see him, never acknowledge him again, and that was the hardest pill he had ever had to swallow. 

In the dusk, in the rain, Shouyou stalked down the sidewalk, black raincoat covering his suit. His hood did the job for now, but he was starting to amass quite the collection of hats to hide his telltale orange hair. If Tenma realized that he was here and what was really going on, Boss Udai would have his fingers. 

The rain fell on Tenma’s thick mane of black hair. He never used to let his hair grow out. Shouyou almost hadn’t recognized him when he first tracked him down here. But he could never mistake his brother’s face. Just couldn’t understand it.

Why, after everything they’ve been through together, was he reduced to still chasing Tenma’s back? Never to meet him, let alone surpass him?

His beloved brother was becoming a different person; the long hair wasn’t the half of it. Instead of a box cutter or lead pipe in his hand, there was an increasingly well-worn leather portfolio. He spoke unfailingly politely to everyone, instead of simply demanding what his bloodline entitled him to. Whoever he was speaking to on his new cell phone, Shouyou didn’t know them; he had not only his father but every one of his old friends and younger brothers blocked.

Sometimes he wanted to run up behind Tenma, grab his shoulders and shake him, demanding to know, _What did I do wrong? Why did you leave me behind?_

As far as Shouyou was concerned, the organization and himself were interchangeable. Tenma might say differently, were Shouyou selfish enough to actually confront him, but Shouyou made no mistake: it was very personal.

~0~

Tenma had been impressed with him: not by his brazenness, but by the surprising maturity with which he carried out the sharing of sake, first with Tenma’s father and then with Tenma himself. The fact that he had worn his broken nose like a badge of honor, he tells Shouyou later, certainly helps. As does the fact that Shouyou will do anything to follow him. 

Tenma directs him to collect protection money from bars and restaurants? He does it quickly and efficiently; despite his size, the weight of the Udai family behind him means everyone takes him seriously.

Teaches him through a school of hard knocks how to fight, with fists and blades? He’s a wildly eager learner.

Orders him to hunt down one stubborn shop owner who thinks he can refuse them their due, and remind him otherwise? However — and with _whatever_ — he likes? 

Oh, he’ll do it. _Happily._

“Aniki,” Daichi remarks one night, “you should be proud of yourself.”

Five of them are gathered in Sugawara’s chilly but clean-smelling basement, watching Suga’s needle patiently poking the last sections of a samurai on Daichi’s back. Shouyou sits in the corner, playing Oicho-Kabu with Nishinoya and hoping that the lighter flipping around in their resident arsonist’s free hand won’t send their card game up in flames. Their jackets are off, and Shouyou’s bare skin itches for a needle in it too, to make him match his proudly decorated brothers.

Tenma sits cross-legged between each pair, his back straight and expression stoic, save for the single eyebrow raised at Daichi’s remark.

“Oh? What for?”

Daichi’s smile is tense (the traditional tattooing process is slow and painful) but genuine. 

“The way you’ve trained Hinata. I overheard some of those street thugs complaining about him downtown. Apparently they’re the friends of that guy whose arms Hinata broke. They’d love to get revenge, but they’re too afraid of him to try on their own. And if they brought more of their friends in to overwhelm him, then _you_ would be after them, and nobody wants that.”

Sugawara doesn’t take his eyes off his work, but gives a slow nod of approval. Nishinoya snickers, still flipping the lighter in his hand, the spinning circle of flame gleaming eerily off his grin. 

“I’d like to see that little bastard try and pull a knife in one of our pachinko halls again!” he crows. “Must be hard, with your bones sticking out!”

Shouyou tries not to preen at that, but Daichi snorts anyway. “See what I mean, aniki?”

A smirk plays on Tenma’s lips as he looks over at his youngest brother, like a king regarding his heir.

“So I might’ve created a monster then, huh?” 

Shouyou holds his head a little higher, and the glint of satisfaction in Tenma’s eyes feels like a lighter flicking on deep in his chest.

“I think I like that.”

~0~

He kept his head up high now. Ears pricked, like a dog on the watch for predators. Tenma was young, and he might be trying to go straight, but he’d been in the business long enough to build up a reputation to beat, and to make plenty of enemies.

It didn’t take him long to catch sight of some. They wore matching suits — sharp, but ill-fitting on their brawny frames — and dark sunglasses, and their hair was slicked heavily back. They strode down the street like they owned it, and maybe around here, they did. But Shouyou was here now, and the usual rules didn’t apply to him. No matter what opposing group they belonged to, he wouldn’t let them do as they pleased. 

Shouyou watched the men’s hands more than any other part of them: the way they drifted towards pockets and waistbands as they followed Tenma, too. Clearly the threat of Boss Udai’s retaliation if his son was harmed mattered less to them than paying Tenma back for however he’d offended them. And they certainly didn’t give a damn who was on the other end of his phone call to hear them, when they finally reached him.

_If_ they reached him. 

With the rain still falling and night slowly coming on, none of them noticed the others as they made their way off the streets proper down to the path by the river. It was quiet; their footsteps made no sound. The streetlights were few and far between. And they were alone there, entirely alone. 

Shouyou had already been tensed to strike, an arrow in a bow pulled back as far as it would go. He watched, unblinking, letting the fire inside him build and build until it suffused his whole body. Maybe he was angry and resentful. Maybe he had a right to be, maybe he didn’t. But he was going to put it to good use now. 

The instant he saw a flash of metal emerging from one of those pockets, Shouyou was running, his sneakers soundless on the wet pavement. They were fifteen meters away from Tenma, but he had no doubt that with their bulk, they were one hundred percent capable of making that sprint. Though Tenma could react in time to counter them, probably even fight them off himself, that wasn’t the _point._ It was Shouyou’s responsibility to protect him.

Most of his brothers didn’t carry knives, viewing them as too big a liability in case the police caught them with it. (They were all willing to go to prison, but in service of their group, not out of their own carelessness.) Shouyou was just a little bit more reckless and he was glad of it now.

Five inches of stainless steel slid through the back of the bigger man’s neck, with the soft, quick sounds of tearing tissue and clicking vertebrae that Shouyou only heard because he’d been listening for them. Directly through the cervical section of the spine, enough to paralyze him from the neck down with one quick and clean stab. It was a high part of the body to reach, but Shouyou sure could jump when he put his mind to it.

The man dropped to the pavement like a wet sack of skin, and his buddy, to his credit, reacted well. He pulled his weapon so quickly it seemed to just materialize in his hand, and if his nerve were just a bit steelier, he might have actually landed a blow on his attacker. He might have, if he hadn’t had the bad luck to look straight into Shouyou’s eyes.

He was never sure, exactly, what everybody seemed to see there. But whatever it was, it was an icy part of him, a part not quite human, and it froze anyone in his gaze to the bone. Like realizing the moment of your own death. For once, he wasn’t smiling, and he didn’t know whether that enhanced or lessened the effect. Then again, he didn’t exactly care.

The man only froze for a second, maybe less. It was more than enough. Shouyou wasn’t afraid of the claw hammer in his meaty hand, not one bit. The sight of it, and the thought of what it was meant to do to Tenma, were like alcohol thrown on a fire. His fury renewed, Shouyou lunged, underneath the faltering swing of the hammer at his temple. 

He had never felt his hand move so fast before in his life. Splashes of red seemed to appear on their own, all over the front of the man’s white dress shirt, in a matter of moments. To finish up, Shouyou put all the strength in his small, slight body behind burying the knife up to the hilt in his sternum and twisting it hard. 

The man’s eyes bulged behind his sunglasses, and dark blood dripped over his lip. He might have made a choked gurgling sound, but the blade Shouyou left stuck there made that impossible. He lunged like a wounded animal, frightened and wild, and Shouyou crouched down, lifting his hands. It was one of the first things Tenma had taught him about hand-to-hand combat: no matter how big his opponent was, he could always win if he used their weight against them, in exactly the right way. 

So with a twist of the arm and a mighty push upward between the hips, Shouyou hurled the man over his own head and into the water. His death throes propelled him for a few seconds, his hands flailing for the edge and his chin jerking breathlessly up above the surface. 

Shouyou looked down on him with an expression of flat disgust. With one decisive kick in the face, he sent him under the water for good. He turned to the first man — still immobile on the ground, face bone-white and tongue twitching, unable to make a sound from shock — and with his other foot pushed him into the river, too. He, at least, wouldn’t be trying to swim. 

He was incredibly thankful for the rain, so torrential it drowned out all the sounds and washed away all the blood, both on the path and on Shouyou’s hands. He started up a nearby stone staircase back up to the street, where he could watch Tenma from a less conspicuous vantage point, pulling his hood back up over his head.

Tenma seemed to be done with his call, and if he had noticed anything amiss, he hadn’t let on, his attention devoted instead to shielding his phone and portfolio inside his jacket. The water plastered his hair down and ran in rivulets down his face and the side of his neck, making the large bandage stuck on the latter peel at the corners. Shouyou knew that it hid not a wound, but the tail of the great black dragon tattoo that dominated Tenma’s chest.

It still stung to see such a beautiful thing covered up in such a way, as if it was shameful. As if the men he had once called brothers were shameful things as well. Shouyou hadn’t cried since he was a small child, but...it _had_ made his chest seize up something awful the first time he’d realized it.

_Aniki...do you really understand what you’ve done? How you’ve hurt us?_

Tenma was in his own world now. A world that not just didn’t include Shouyou, but that actively shut him out. He wanted to surpass his brother one day, to be acknowledged by him; he had never been satisfied with simply chasing Tenma’s back. But now it seemed that that would be the rest of his life.

_Aniki..._

He could hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He could feel the resentment and hurt like red-hot needles, along every line of the dark tattoos he now boasted on his torso. He could give in to the urge: run back down there himself, break his brother easily now that his skills were rusty, with nothing but his fists, force him to come back and — and —

_Aniki!_

Just before passing under the bridge, Tenma stopped, as if hearing his thoughts, or just finally sensing the eyes on him. He looked around: suspicious at first, then puzzled when his gaze landed on Shouyou. They were too far away for Tenma to recognize him, especially with the hood obscuring his face, but Shouyou could see Tenma’s face clearly. He hadn’t looked directly into his eyes since before he had left for the city.

What he saw in them drained him dry of his fury. They still burned, but with passion instead of ferocity. They were brighter, stronger...full of life and pride. 

(His opposite. Naturally.)

Shouyou realized with a jolt that he had never seen his brother like this before. Maybe...he had never really seen him at all.

...Well. There was no point in standing around and staring until his cover was blown; Tenma wasn’t stupid, after all. Shouyou turned and hurried the rest of the way up the stairs, and watched Tenma shrug and move on from a better hidden vantage point on the street. At that moment, his phone buzzed in his coat pocket, and he was surprised to find his hands trembling as he pulled it out.

A text from Boss Udai: _Hinata. How is he doing?_

Shouyou’s thumb hovered over the phone for a moment, before typing a simple reply.

_He’s happy._


End file.
